The Blind Spot
Page 48
XLVII
THE LAST LEAF
Watson's story was now completed. During the entire recital his auditorshad spoken scarcely a word. It had been marvellous--almost a revelation.With the possible exception of Sir Henry Hodges, not one had expectedthat it would measure up to this. For the whole thing backed upHolcomb's original proposition:
"The Occult is concrete."
Certainly, if what Watson had told them was true, then Infinity had beensquared by itself. Not only was there an infinity that we might look upto through the stars, but there was another just as great, co-existent,here upon the earth. The occult became not only possible, but unlimited.
The next few minutes would prove whether or not he had told the truth.
It was now close to midnight.
Jerome and General Hume had returned from Berkeley. Their quest had beensuccessful; Watson now had the missing green stone. A number of soldierswere stationed about the house. Watson noted these men when he hadfinished his account, and said:
"Good. We may need them, although I hope not. Fortunately the Spot issmall, and a few of us can hold it against a good many. What we must dois to extricate our friends and close it. Afterward we may have time formore leisurely investigation. But we must remember, above all things,that black case of Professor Holcomb's! It holds the secrets.
"Now I must ask you all to step out of this room. This library, youknow, is the Blind Spot."
He directed them to take positions along the balustrade of the stairway,out in the hall--through the wide archway, where they could have a clearview, yet be safe.
It was a curious test. With nothing but his mathematics and his drawingto go by, Watson was about to set the three stones in their invisiblesockets. He spread the map out carefully, likewise his calculations;they gave him, on this floor, the precise positions that he chartedon the earth of the cellar. A glance toward the front of thehouse--north--then a little measuring, three chalk-marks on the carpet,and he was ready for the final move.
He took the fateful ring and with a penknife pried up the prongs thatheld the stone. As it popped out he caught it with one hand. Then helooked at the row of wondering faces along the stair.
"I think it will work," he said. "But, remember--don't come near! Ishall get out as best I can myself; don't try to save me."
With that he held the jewel on the first of the three chalk-marks on thecircumference of the great circle. He held it tight against the carpetand then let go. Up it flashed about one foot--and disappeared.
There was no sound. Next Watson took the red stone. With it, the processwas inverted. Instead of holding it to the floor he raised it as high ashe could reach, directly above the second mark. Then he let it drop.
It did not reach the floor. It fell a little more than halfway, andvanished.
The third stone, the green one, was still remaining. Watson took it tothe third and final mark on the circle, taking care to keep outside thecircumference that marked the Spot. This mark was directly in front ofthe archway. He turned to them.
"Watch carefully," he spoke. "I do not know what has transpired in thetemple during the past few hours. Be ready for ANYTHING. All of you!"
He dropped the stone.
With the same motion he dodged out into the hall.
Though there was no sound there was something that every one felt--asibilant undertone and cold vibration--a tense flash of magnetism. Thenthe dot of blue--a string of incandescence; just as had been spoken.
The Blind Spot was opening.
Watson silently warned the others to remain where they were andhimself crowded back against the stair. And as he did so, someone camenoiselessly down the steps from the floor above, passed unnoticed behindthe watchers and thence across into the hall.
It was a slender, frail figure in white--the Aradna, walking like one inthe grip of a higher will. Before they could make a move she had steppedinto the Blind Spot, under the dot of blue, and into a string of light.And then--she was gone.
It was as swift as a guess. It was inexorable and unseen; and beingunseen, close akin to terror. The group watched and waited, scarcelybreathing. What would happen next?
There came a sudden, jarring click--like the tapping of iron. And nextinstant--
The Spot opened to human sight.
The library at 288 Chatterton Place was gone. Instead, the people onthe stairs were gazing down from the Spot of Life, straight into thecolossal Temple of the Jarados.
It was as Chick had described it--immense--beyond conception. Throughthe great doors and out into the plaza beyond was gathered allThomahlia, reverent, like those waiting for the crack of doom.
Above the horde, high on the opposite wall, stood out the monster CloverLeaf of the Jarados; three-coloured--blazing like liquid fire; it wasominous with real life.
At that moment the whole concourse rippled with commotion. Arms wereuplifted; one and all pointed towards the dais. They, too were lookingthrough the Spot. Then the multitude began to move.
It heaved and surged and rolled toward the centre. The guards werepressed in upon the Bars, the Bars upon the Rhamda-lined stair. Therewas no resisting that flood of humanity. On and up it came, sweepingeverything before it.
Directly in the foreground lay the snow-stone. On its centre stoodthe dog Queen, crouching, waiting, bristling. By her side Harry Wendelcrouched on one knee, as if awaiting the signal. Behind him, theNervina, supporting the awakening Aradna. And in front of all, thepowerful bulk of Hobart Fenton, standing squarely at the head of thestair, ready to grapple the first to reach the landing.
But most important of all, there stood the doctor himself. He was at theNervina's side; in his hand, the case of priceless data. He was gazingthrough the Spot and making a signal of some kind to Watson, whereuponthe latter leaped to the edge of the unseen circle.
Something had gone wrong. The Spot was not fully open. Nothing but sightcould get through.
Yet there was no time for anything. Up the stairs came the Bars, leadingand being pressed forward by the horde. At their head dashed the BarSenestro, handsome as Alexander. Hobart stepped forward to meet him, butthe doctor stopped him with a word.
Only a few seconds elapsed between death and salvation. Again Dr.Holcomb signed to Watson; not a sound came through. Watson hesitated.
The dog Queen shot to her feet. Then the Senestro, out-distancing allthe rest and dodging Hobart, had leaped upon the dais.
Upon the wall across the temple the great Leaf of the Jarados stood outlike sinister fire. It pulsed and vibrated--alive. The top petal--theblue one--suddenly broke into a seething wave of flame.
Still Watson held back. He could not understand what Holcomb meant.
Queen waited only until the Senestro set foot on the dais. She crouched,then leaped.
It was done.
With a lightning shift of his nimble feet, the high-tempered Barkicked the shepherd in the side. Caught at full leap, she was knockedcompletely over and fell upon the snow-stone.
It was the Sacrilege!
Even the Bars beyond the Senestro stopped in horror. The Four-FootedOne--sacred to the Jarados--it was she who had been touched! Had theSenestro undone all on the Spot of Judgment, What would be the end?
Fenton acted. He caught the Senestro before he could get his balance andwith a mighty heave hurled him over the side of the stair. A second, andit was over.
Another second was the last. For the great Leaf of the Jarados hadopened.
The green and red stood still; but out of the blue came a dazzlinglight, a powerful beam; so brilliant, it seemed solid. It shot acrossthe whole sweep of the temple and touched the Prophecy. Over the goldenscrolls it traced its marvellous colour, until it came to the lines:
Beware ye of sacrilege! Lest I take from ye all that I have given ye, and the day be postponed--beware ye of sacrilege!
For a moment the strange light stood still, so that the checked millionsmight read. Then it turned upon the dais.
Ther
e it spread, and hovered over the group, until it seemed to workthem together--the Nervina to Harry, the Aradna to Hobart. Not one ofthem knew what it was; they obeyed by impulse--it was their destiny; theChosen, and the queens.
The light stopped at the foot of Dr. Holcomb. Then the strangest thinghappened.
Out of the light--or rather, from where it bathed the snowstone--came aman; a man much like Holcomb, bearded and short and kindly.
He was the real Jarados!
Unhesitatingly the professor stepped up beside him. Then followed Hobartand the Aradna, Harry and the Nervina, and lastly, from the crowd ofBars, MacPherson. The whole concourse in the temple stopped in awe andterror.
Only for a second. Then the Jarados and all at his side--were gone.
And upon the snow-stone there stood a sword of living flame.
It stood there for just a breath, exactly where the group had been.
And it was gone.
That was all.
No; not quite all. For when the Blind Spot closed that night at 288Chatterton Place, there came once more the deep, solemn peal of the Bellof the Jarados.